


from those pretty, pale lips

by survivalinstinctvalkyria



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/survivalinstinctvalkyria
Summary: 『...But stubbornness also meant tenacity, a force which drew him to his lance time and again, which had him writing statements even as his own blood stained the paper. He was a beautiful speck of light heralding a new era over the continent, pushed to victory by the same force that had nearly claimed his life more times than could be counted.It was that force, perhaps, that had drawn Keito to him, like a moth drawn to a flame — that tenacious energy of his had made him fall in love.』
Relationships: Hasumi Keito/Tenshouin Eichi
Kudos: 5





	from those pretty, pale lips

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I pumped this out in an hour because I felt like writing angst last night. I can't attest to the accuracy or historical accuracy or this but I'm kinda proud of it
> 
> This wasn't edited because I'm tired and lazy
> 
> I might bump the rating we'll see

If the prince was anything, he was stubborn. Even things as minuscule as the sweets he ate served as an example for this; they were never the same as the ones his father chose, no matter how much he actually liked them. The same went for almost every aspect of his life, from his choice in weaponry to the company he kept.

But stubbornness also meant tenacity, a force which drew him to his lance time and again, which had him writing statements even as his own blood stained the paper. He was a beautiful speck of light heralding a new era over the continent, pushed to victory by the same force that had nearly claimed his life more times than could be counted.

It was that force, perhaps, that had drawn Keito to him, like a moth drawn to a flame — that tenacious energy of his had made him fall in love.

Now, Keito was perfectly respectable in his own right, a powerful noble who executed absolute authority over his territory, whose rule bled to cities around his own. By economic prospects alone, he could have any spouse of his choosing. Yet he always returned to the one person who seemed out of his reach: that dastardly beautiful child of a prince. He found himself in the prince’s castle more often than any other vassal, then in his garden, then his private chambers, and eventually his bed. There, they shared secret little kisses that always tasted of blood and regrets — an accumulation of all the  _ what if _ s that surrounded their relationship. Forbidden fantasies where they were equals who could stand as close together as they wanted bred in the quiet safety of the prince’s duvet, where he curled up against Keito’s chest like a cat, and whispered of his plans, softer than he did anywhere else.

“They already know that they are outnumbered, but they have no idea by how much,” he purred into Keito’s collar, his words at odds with his tone. “So I’ll flank them from the North, or possibly the East — at this point, it’ll make no difference. Hmm, maybe I’ll invite you to watch me behead their commander.”

He said it like it was a flirtation, and it very well may have been. For Eichi, who took every step knowing that his demise was hot on his heels, there was no notion more romantic than that of conquering death.

“You already know that I don’t want to watch you rush ahead in the front lines, let alone come face to face with the enemy commander.”

“Just because my father didn’t doesn’t mean I won’t.”

“You’re incorrigible. Your father would just about kill me if I let anything happen to his heir.”

Eichi’s face twisted in petulance, a pouting look that said everything it needed to:  _ is that all you think about? Your obligation to my family? _

The answer was  _ no, of course not _ , but he knew well enough that Eichi wouldn’t understand. Underneath that angelic face was a distrustful man who saw everything as a contract, from Keito’s loyalty to his love. To him, he’d receive Keito’s love so long as he returned it. Did he realize how long Keito had pined for him just to reach this point, holding him in his arms and yet wanting to be even closer?

“What will you do after the enemy commander is killed. Their king doesn’t usually fight on the front lines, does he?” 

The lack of subtlety with which Keito changed the subject received no comment from his companion. Instead, Eichi’s lips curled into a Chesire grin that was everything Keito loved and hated all at once.

“That’s a surprise.”

* * *

_ That’s a surprise.  _

Those three words hung on to Keito, biting at his fingers as they trembled around his bow. A surprise, a surprise, a—

The feeling of a man’s body colliding with his shoulder knocks him out of his reverie. His horse whinnies and rears up defiantly, justifiably frightened. Keito’s frightened too, but he swallows it back in favor of drawing his bowstring back, aiming with perfect accuracy at an enemy soldier’s forehead. Were he able to think clearly, he may have gotten it between his eyes.

Eichi’s gone missing, yet the fighting hasn’t relented. In fact, those closer to the front seem to race forward with an increased vigor — they know something Keito doesn’t. Why? Why do those knights know of Eichi’s plans, and not the man he’d shared his bed with a few nights before?  _ Why? _

He thinks to the last time he’d seen Eichi’s face, to that blindingly bright smile of his that always meant he was plotting something. It’s been so long since Keito’s been able to connect the word  _ innocent _ to him in good conscience.

(That isn’t to say he’s stopped entirely; he tends to forget his good conscience around the prince.)

He’s still reminiscing of that smile when he hears a blood-curling scream, that of a voice so familiar that it makes Keito’s stomach drop. When he finally turns to look, he sees the enemy commander, his fist tangled in blonde hair as he brandishes the prince’s head for all to see.

Keito sees.

He sees more than he wants to. In that vacant stare he sees the wide-eyed amazement of a boy twenty years younger, watching an equally young Keito hit a bullseye at the royal shooting range. On that colorless canvas of skin, he sees the pink that had tinged Eichi’s cheeks like watercolor all those times that Keito had kissed his hand, more intimately than a vassal ought to. And, oh, from those pretty, pale lips, he hears threats and teases and shy confessions of love that had always plagued his daydreams.

But then the prince’s army surges forward, and Eichi’s head is tossed aside. Keito never sees his childhood friend's face again.

* * *

Despite all the odds, Eichi’s army had won. Keito, decidedly, had not.

The prince is dead and yet his closest vassal is alive; the rumors in the castle have swelled. The maids had already gossiped of their affair before the battle, playful little whispers detailing how Keito had entered the prince’s room late at night and had not left till afternoon. They longer speak of it as a forbidden romance, though. Instead they lash scathing accusations towards Keito:

_ That’s the one who got close to the prince so that he could learn all his plans and betray him; that’s the one who shared the prince’s bed in hopes that he could share his power as well; that’s the one who stole the queen’s darling little son away from her. _

So Keito drinks until he can’t see the hatred in their eyes, and goes to bed with the ghost of his one true love held tight in his memories. Not even a week later, a low-ranking knight saunters into the throne room, grasping on to the sage-colored hair of a man with ruddy cheeks, eager to claim the glory that comes with avenging the fallen prince.

**Author's Note:**

> They really are starcrossed lovers, huh


End file.
